


Carpe Diem

by Sarita1046



Category: Norsemen - Fandom, Vikingane
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, Closeted Character, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Self-Denial, Vikings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 11:50:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16786414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarita1046/pseuds/Sarita1046
Summary: After Orm and Rufus have been excluded from the slave gathering, they find another way to spend the evening.





	Carpe Diem

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: First attempt at (human) M/M smut!

“On one condition – that I can return home to Rome at the first possible opportunity.”

The words hung in the air, the actor’s dark eyes imploring and perhaps as serious as Orm had ever seen them. Slowly, the latter nodded in agreement.

“We’ll have to take the Lawspeaker out of the picture, but…we can raise our position in the village again.”

“Fine,” Rufus replied, gaze not breaking Orm’s. "We can discuss logistics in the morning."

For some reason, Orm’s head had begun to spin at the proximity of their faces. Slowly, he averted his eyes and rolled over to his side to sleep.

Not a moment had passed before Orm’s head hit the thin blanket, and he groaned. The tent floor was cold, the air around them even brisker. Kark was outside with the other slaves and hadn’t even thought to include him. Then again, Rufus had also been neglected.

As if on cue, the Roman’s soft voice broke the silence again, barely above a whisper.  
“What are _you_ groaning about? You hardly did any work.”

Orm would have bristled, had he not detected mirth in the other man’s words.

“I know, I know,” he stated without turning around, resisting the urge to curl up in a fetal position to block out the cold. “I haven’t got that attractive physique, right?”

“You should take some advice from your wife,” Rufus scoffed. “She is very fit.”

Orm wanted to cringe. “I’m not interested in your fantasies about my wife, you realize how off-putting that is,” he grumbled. "My back is killing me, and I want to get some sleep before the sun comes up.”

“Come on,” Rufus insisted, “I’m just saying how refreshing it is to see women actually fighting in battles. Where I come from, they’re mostly just interested in sewing, raising families and sneaking away all the wine. Oh, and they never know when to shut up.”

“Frøya doesn’t talk much at all,” mused Orm, “Then again, they do say that for every intelligent woman, there are ten intelligent men.”

Rufus rolled his eyes, as Orm shifted and hissed again as he tried to stretch out.

“That’s something else I do miss about home,” Rufus continued, “Being an actor, I never had to worry much about manual labor. But the slaves knew the secret of oil to soothe the muscles, and we had it aplenty.” 

“Ah yes,” Orm drawled, “In your…orgies.”

Rufus smirked in the dark. “Theatre performances and rehearsals require a lot of time on your feet. Of course, oil only does so much without working out one’s muscles as well. Sometimes the oil isn't even necessary...”

Orm frowned and glanced toward the Roman, “I’m exhausted, I can hardly massage my own back. I couldn’t even kneel earlier to tend to business.”

Rufus rolled his eyes. “Obviously, someone has to do it for you. I take it, the wife never offered?”

Orm snorted, “Frøya ran off to her first raid after our wedding night and when they returned, she asked me to work on her shoulders. I tried but my fingers got tired and she said she couldn’t feel anything.”

At that, Rufus had to grin. “I couldn’t imagine you two together. But anyway, we have to get up soon to execute this plan, and you can’t be complaining the whole way or stop for breath. Turn over on your side, face the other way.”

Eyebrows knitted in confusion, Orm complied, biting back yet another grimace. “Okay. What were you planning…?”

The feeling of firm fingers on his shoulders silenced him immediately. Well, this was new. Closer to his ear, Rufus’s voice continued softly.

“You need to start at the top and work your way down,” he followed up his words with several knuckles to the center of Orm’s back, rolling over the spine and flattening the flesh on either side. "Relax and think of the sea - not the freezing cold water here, but one where you can actually feel the sun. In Rome, we call the sea Mare Nostrum."

 _Loki_. Why was Orm now imagining when he had that encounter with the Jarl’s first in command? That had been an entirely different position…and situation. With someone of a large build and fearsome appearance. The foreign actor behind him was anything but. Claiming to be cultured, Rufus’s fascination with what he called “the arts” had always intrigued Orm whose own love for poetry had always exasperated both his wife and late brother. But Rufus shared that passion for the creative element – words and pictures. Not to mention that accent…

The realization that his upper back now felt like a limp leaf closely preceded the horror that emerged when Orm became aware of his own instinctual movements. For at least the past few moments, he had been gently grinding back against Rufus. Oddly, if the actor noticed, he made no move to pull away. Instead, his ministration continued, now kneading the muscles around Orm’s hips. The Roman’s cold fingers were finally warming as they worked near the hotter flesh of Orm’s abdomen. 

Why the torso? Orm stared ahead in humiliation as he became aware of the blood pooling to a very inconvenient location. Odin, not again…while he’d suffered enough fantasies about this sort of thing while the two of them were on the road, Liv’s presence has provided a sufficient obstacle. Now that they were finally alone...

That’s when he felt something subtly firm against the small of his back. When Rufus’s voice next pierced the darkness, Orm nearly jumped out of his skin. Though the words were even lower than before.

“Always so much to say, and now at a loss for words?”

Orm was far too flustered to even appreciate that all the tension had now left his back muscles…replaced with a different sort of tension. “I…I.”

Rufus hummed behind him, breath hot on his neck. “Calm down, Orm. No need to be afraid of a little chemistry.”

A pause. Orm needed to keep talking to distract himself from meeting what he now could tell were the firm presses of the actor's hips against his lower back. Why in the name of Valhalla was he thinking of the dirty hand trick Rufus had shown him? 

“How do…how do Romans get anything done?” he sputtered, no longer quite caring that Rufus could surely feel the backward grinding Orm had failed in toning down.

“It’s a healthy part of life, Orm,” at this point, the sound of his name sent a warm jolt down Orm’s spine. “You see an opportunity to blow off some steam and you take it. Why not? We have a saying: _Carpe diem_ \- Sieze the day. You owe me one anyway, after getting me whipped.”

Upon finishing his latest statement, Rufus’s left hand remained working on Orm’s shoulder muscle, as his right found its way around, grasping the latter’s length.

Orm cleared his throat to mask a gasp. 

“Men, women,” Rufus continued nonchalantly, “Pleasure is pleasure. Quit making such a big deal.”

Loki – Orm closed his eyes and released an audible sigh, relenting his final doubt in the moment as he reached back with his own right hand to feel for Rufus’s length.

He didn’t have to search long. The slave tunics were thinner than the ornate robes he had worn during Olav’s time as chieftain. Using the darkness as a way to swallow his final reservation, Orm began kneading with his fingers, earning a low hiss from the Roman who had already begun thrusting greedily into his hand. Already, Orm could feel the tingling pressure building between his thighs.

They lay like that for what felt like ages – tangled in a heap amongst grimy blankets, restless chickens and general filth. How low had Orm fallen?

Such was his final thought before emitting a low whine and giving in to the release spurred on by the fingers working him. Rufus followed moments later, releasing a string of curses in Latin as a warm rush spilled over Orm’s palm in several strong pulses. 

When Kark returned to the tent not long after, Rufus was still dozing and Orm hurried quickly to rearrange his own tunic and remove the actor’s arm from over his waist.

Suddenly, the fact that Kark had excluded him the previous night stung a tad less. The other slave’s absence had provided ample opportunity to explore something incredible.


End file.
